most ardently
by bs13
Summary: Kara Danvers is quite content with her simple life, with no worries about fortune or titles or marriage; unfortunately, Lena Luthor and every proud, intolerable inch of her has quickly disrupted this peace. (Pride and Prejudice AU.)


**i know i start more stories than i know what to do with, but i have always wanted to write a Pride and Prejudice AU, so - this is it, and while i tried my best to make it historically accurate i'm just too informal a writer for this! it's not a true adaption - i've played w/a lot of the the original dynamics, and even straight up used some dialogue from the 2005 movie (i take no credit for that, it's the only good thing out of this fic).**

 **i will try to update other fics soon, but i have a long-ass fic im currently working on for a secret santa exchange on tumblr that i need to finish in the next few days, so i'm pretty much going to throw myself into that first! but afterwards, i'll try my best!**

* * *

The winter's snow is just beginning to melt when the news of James Olsen coming to town hits.

This is Kara's favorite time of year; the sun has begun to shine more brightly, the birds have begun to return to their nests, and the streams have begun to slowly rush once more. The air is always brisk and cold, much as it tends to be during snowfall, but not quite as frigid as usual; there is something much more _lively_ about it, as if the world itself is waking up after a much-needed rest, warming up as gradually as time passes.

It is the perfect time for a change, she supposes, and for a small town like theirs especially so. If she hadn't gone to town and caught snatches of conversation here and there, she would have surely learned this news some way or another; Winn, who has always been rather detached from any such talk, even picks up a bit of this gossip.

"They say this gentleman," he says, "this James Olsen—he is occupying Netherfield Park."

New faces are few and far between, and young, unwed bachelors especially so; Kara's own mind is not yet made up about the arrival of James Olsen. He sounds, quite frankly, too good to be true.

But Winn is not as skeptical as she, and when his words garner no response, he presses on: "He's a rich fellow. Five thousand a year, or so I've heard."

"And what great misfortune has befallen such a man?" Kara asks, humoring her friend's giddiness with a patient nod.

"None," says Winn, thrown for a moment. "Er, none that I am aware of…"

Kara gathers her skirts and frowns at the rushing stream they've reached, nudging her spectacles up her nose with her fingertip. "Surely there must be something," she says, holding out her hand for Winn to grasp in his own as she ventures to take a step forward. "Why, the way my mother makes it sound—it is as if a nobleman has come to the country."

"You are entirely too judgemental," Winn says, hopping after her once Kara has secured a spot on a decently flat rock.

"I am not," Kara says, poking her foot into the water to find the next stone. Water rushes into her shoes; Alex will surely chastise her for it later. "I am merely being reasonable. Men like James Olsen aren't cut out for the country."

"Netherfield isn't country, lest you forget," Winn reminds her, and as Kara tests her footing, he cautions, "Kara—you mustn't—"

"Do such improper things, yes," Kara recites faithfully. "Come, Winn, you're too slow. Tell me more about this James Olsen if he is all you might think of."

"That is...not the slightest bit true," Winn protests, though his cheeks flush with color. "I appreciate the estate of Netherfield, is all."

Kara touches the bank easily enough, lifting the hem of her dress to see that it is soaked completely through. "Alright, if you insist," she says, cupping her hands around her mouth so Winn might hear better.

He glowers in reply. "Has your father not called on the gentleman?" he asks. Yelps, really, as he risks a hop to a stone half-submerged in water. "I would expect you to know a great deal more than I."

"If he's done so, he hasn't bothered to tell me," Kara says. "He has never cared for such trivial matters."

Winn finally makes it ashore, though his mouth is twisted into an odd grimace as he tries his best to shake out his shoes. "Is your mother not as insistent as mine that I be wed? She frets that I will lose my roguish charm with age," he says, very tongue-in-cheek, and Kara smiles.

"My mother worries quietly," she says. "My father even more so. And as far as Alex is concerned, I am to die a spinster."

"You? A spinster?" Winn echoes disbelievingly. "Unimaginable." That lopsided grin he has had since he was a boy—all charm and wit and familiarity—comes back, and Kara laughs.

"If I did not love you like a brother, you would be the first person I would marry," she assures him fondly, and his grin tapers into a bashful smile.

"Shall we go then, my lady?" Winn says, offering his arm mockingly, and Kara gladly takes it.

"Alex will have my head if I am not in before dark," she says as they begin their trek through the tall grasses. "You will stay for dinner, won't you?"

"I shouldn't, lest my mother worry. Perhaps another time."

Kara sends him a singular pleading look. "Winn," she says, "can you deny me anything? Your best friend?"

The instant he catches the look, he huffs and shakes his head, turning away with a theatric groan. "I wouldn't dare intrude…" he begins, but one more expectant glance renders him weak. "Alright, alright! You have an uncanny ability to make me feel very guilty, and I hope you're aware of it."

"Do contain your excitement, Winslow," Kara teases, and just as intended, the usage of his full name makes him sputter. "I am a delight."

For as much as Winn makes a fuss, even he has to admit that crossing the stream instead of walking the extra mile to the bridge is a much more efficient way to return home. Kara has never been fond of wasting time, and he's learned quickly enough to humor her quirks; their friendship works like this quite often.

The sun has begun to set once they finally reach the border of the Longbourn estate. Winn has also begun to whistle an off-key tune to fill the silence of their walk, whilst Kara remains engrossed in her own thoughts.

She would be fooling no one if she were to say she hasn't thought of marriage. Why, there is nothing else that will cross everyone's lips at this time of year; new beginnings are set to cultivate love, and peace, and though Kara has never been lonely she does wonder what it would be like.

She has no inkling to pursue such matters, of course. She is better suited here, on the farm, with Alex and Winn and her parents—there is no need for fortune, so long as she is fortunate enough to have their love.

Alex is waiting by the door as Kara and Winn make their way up the dirt path. Kara's hem is muddied, and Winn's shoes make odd _squelching_ noises with each step; they are greeted by a hardened glare once they arrive.

"We left town a bit later than expected," Kara says apologetically, but the expression on Alex's face never falters.

"Supper is on the table," Alex says, "if you two would go wash up."

Poor Winn has many rules to adhere to when it comes to the Danvers sisters, and one he has come to stick by rigidly is to never apologize when it comes to Kara's schemes. Alex will only spare him a further annoyed glance before she takes her leave, and so this time, Winn faithfully remains silent as Kara pulls him towards the washroom.

"Does she seem angrier to you?" Kara whispers as she cups a healthy spot of water in her hands, the cold droplets soothing against her warm, dusty skin.

"Forgive me, Kara, but your sister seems perpetually angry," Winn whispers back, tone not particularly apologetic. "I am half afraid of her, if I dare say so."

"You may not be far off, my friend," Kara cannot help but laugh, and the sound seemingly brings a bit of reassurance. At the very least, Winn's cheeks regain some color. "She strikes fear in all of us."

Once finished, they make their way to the table, just in time to catch the last of Eliza Danvers's latest lament:

"—and to introduce the girls to society!"

Winn coughs. "Hello, Mrs. Danvers," he says, giving a gallant bow that she very nearly ignores. "Mr. J'onzz."

"Oh, Winslow, dear," Eliza says. "What a pleasure to have you here. Have you accompanied Kara to town again?"

"Yes, ma'am. We thought we might see the horses."

"We do have horses here," Eliza says skeptically, moreso to Kara than Winn; she draws her eyes over Kara's appearance and sighs. "Oh, Kara, your _dress_."

"It's not ripped," Kara is quick to interject, and Eliza shakes her head.

"Come, come, sit down. Mr. J'onzz was gracious enough to come for dinner once again," Eliza says.

Kara greets J'onn with a kiss to his cheek. "Hello, Papa," she says brightly. "The frost is going fast this year. I reckon we might start with the crops earlier, if we have the chance."

"Don't bother Mr. J'onzz with farm talk during supper, dear," Eliza says. "And Alex, please, pass Winslow the potatoes! He's our guest." It is only once everyone has been situated comfortably that she speaks, again: "Now that you have come home, Kara, we _must_ tell you about the new Netherfield resident—"

"James Olsen, yes," Kara says. "I know very little of him, though Winn certainly has enlightened me some."

"He is all Mama will speak of," Alex mutters. "She is determined to marry us off, it seems."

"You make it sound as if I plan to send you away," Eliza says with a frown. "I only want what's best for you."

" _Kara_ may marry this rich man if she so wishes. I have no such desire to," Alex says tightly, and Kara gets the distinct feeling this is not the first time this has been discussed.

"Introducing you to the gentleman isn't offering your hand, Alexandra, as I have been trying to _explain_ —"

Winn clears his throat quite meekly. "These are excellent potatoes," he says, perhaps in an attempt to draw the attention away from the matter at hand.

He is not as successful as J'onn manages to be. "Mrs. Danvers, please." J'onn rests his hand gently over hers, as if he is cautioning her not to say something she will regret. "If this is what Alexandra desires, we musn't push."

Alex's jaw tightens, anticipating a rebuttal, and Kara offers her a small smile of comfort.

But Eliza merely sighs once more. "Of course," she agrees. She reaches across the table to take Alex's hand in her own, and quietly she says, "I am sorry, my dear, if I have troubled you. I only worry as a mother should."

"I understand," Alex replies, expression softening. "I…" She is unable to say anything further, mouth open but no sound forthcoming, and J'onn speaks instead.

"And what is your stance on this gentleman, Kara?" he asks. "I would hate to have called upon this gentleman only to have no young ladies to introduce him to."

The reaction is instantaneous; Eliza gasps, Winn chokes, and Alex tilts her head curiously in Kara's direction. Kara feels every set of eyes on her, and the mouthful of food she swallows gets lodged in her throat.

"If you have already called on him, Papa, I have no issue in meeting him," she says faintly. It is not as if she is devastated by the idea, though she is confused; she has never formally met any man for the sake of presenting herself as searching to be wed.

"You are under no obligation to do so, Kara," J'onn says. "But if you wish to, I have no qualms with Mr. Olsen. He is a very agreeable young man. And from what I hear, he will be attending the ball to-morrow evening."

"To-morrow? Why, in such a short time! Kara, you have a dress that you might wear, right? Alexandra will have to help you get dressed, Lord knows the last time you wore a corset—"

Alex meets Kara's eyes as Eliza rambles on, a quiet understanding in them, and she reaches over to take Kara's hand. It might be her way of apologizing, or a way of offering her thanks, but nonetheless, it brings a warmth to Kara's heart she has greatly missed.

.

.

.

"Alex," Kara whispers, fidgeting with her hands as she attempts to say something that might properly convey how oddly anxious she feels.

"Hold still, Kara, don't breathe." With one final tug, the corset tightens as far as humanly possible; Kara feels the pinch and winces, but Alex does not loosen the strings. "There. Mama set out your dress, if you are ready."

"Alex," Kara says once again. "Alex, what if...what if I make a fool of myself?"

For a moment there is no reply, and then Alex places both hands on her sister's shoulders. "You are foolish sometimes," she says simply. "But you are no fool. If Mr. Olsen is not in love with you by the end of the night, _he_ will be the fool."

"No man is able to fall in love in one night," Kara counters. "If it were so, I would have no good judgement of men."

"The only judgement of men I have is that they entirely too fickle. I would not hold my breath."

The corners of Kara's mouth twitch; she feels the beginnings of her amused smile start almost involuntarily. "Well, I have no desire to fall in love with a man I have never met," she says.

"Count your stars you are not being _betrothed_ to him," Alex says. "The most you have to do is meet him."

Kara gazes at her sister, who she has feared time and time again has been slowly slipping away, and maybe there is some truth to her fear; Alex has grown colder with age, closed off in a way Kara cannot fathom, as if she feels she has to hide part of herself away from those who love her most.

And, every now and again, Alex will speak as if they're young again, confiding in each other as if nothing has changed. These moments are the ones Kara cherishes most, and she hangs onto each as long as possible.

Alas, they cannot hide away in their room forever; Eliza Danvers is never late. J'onn accompanies them in the outing, as he always does; Kara leans against his shoulder once they are seated in the carriage, and hopes she does not appear as nervous as she feels.

She has no expectations from meeting James Olsen, and yet, the thought that she might leave an impression on him is intriguing. She has never been the beautiful sister; that has always been Alex. Alex is better suited to an event like this, and Kara—she's much more at home at the farm.

The only consolation is that the ball is being held at Meryton, by the Lane family. When they arrive, it is every intent of Kara's to find their youngest, Lucy Lane; she is one of Kara's dearest friends, but before she takes a step out of the carriage Eliza rests a hand on her shoulder.

"Kara," she says. "I know you may think my insistence a nuisance of a silly old woman…"

"Mama," Kara interrupts her warmly. "Please, let us have a pleasant evening. Gentlemen or not, I dearly miss events like these."

"Yes, Mrs. Lane _does_ have a rather nice house, does she not? Her daughters are such wonderful girls, and their dresses…"

Eliza goes on, and J'onn takes over, leading her away to find the aforementioned Mrs. Lane. Alex has long since vanished; to hide away, perhaps, or to find the drinks. Kara wanders through the house in search of familiar face, in hope that she might spend a few moments alone without thinking about James Olsen.

Winn finds her just outside of the drawing room, and he bows for show; it makes Kara laugh every time. "Hello, Ms. Danvers," he says. "No mud on your dress today, I see."

"Hello, Mr. Schott," Kara laughs, formally curtsying. "I don't suppose you've seen Lucy around here."

"As a matter of fact, I have. She is insistent on dancing as many dances as she can, to-night," Winn says. "Shall we join her?"

"Yes, but only because I am insatiably curious," Kara says, accepting his arm when it is offered. "Does James Olsen dance?"

"That, I am not sure of. The gentleman has yet to show. Scandalous, is it not?" Winn is mocking as he speaks, though there is a glimmer of curiosity hiding in his eye. "From what I have heard, he intends on bringing company."

"The more the merrier, I suppose," Kara says, and as they make their way into the ballroom, she manages to briefly forget about Mr. Olsen and his mysterious guests; Lucy is an ample distraction, face alit with such pure joy as she tumbles off the dance floor, taking both of Kara's hands in her own.

"Oh, Kara, there you are! I saw your sister very briefly. She is quite shy; when I asked for a dance, she turned away without a word! But heavens, I have never seen a person turn so _red_ before…"

"She is not much of a dancer," Kara apologizes on Alex's behalf. "Shall I find her for you?"

"No, no, _you_ must dance with me instead! Winn, you might come along too. See if you can bring Lois with you, she is become too reclusive as of late." Lucy eagerly links her arm with Kara's, leaning in to speak directly by her ear as they take a turn about the room. "You look wonderful, Kara! I have not seen you in a dress in ages."

"I thought I might doll myself up for you, my love," Kara teases.

"Oh hush, I do fancy your other clothes too," Lucy says, brushing a tendril of hair out of Kara's eyes. "You wear men's clothes much more handsomely than half the men in this town. Nay, this country."

"Until you have met every man in this country, Lucy, I fear you may be mistaken."

"I meet far too many men as it is," Lucy sniffs, "and I never gain anything from it."

"So you do not hope to win the heart of the adored Mr. Olsen, I take it," Kara says lightly, though her words only cause Lucy's brow to furrow.

"I have found Mr. Olsen to be an amiable sort of man," Lucy declares after some time. "But he keeps rather odd company."

"Whatever do you mean?"

Before Lucy has a chance to reply, the musicians cease their playing; the people on the dancefloor slow, a murmur of confusion passing through the crowd. Even Kara turns her head to see what the commotion is about, and with that, she finally rests her eyes on James Olsen.

He is a handsome man, without a doubt; he stands tall, and has kind brown eyes, with a friendly sort of smile on his face that radiates compassion. He nods at anyone he sees, an informal greeting, as though they might not know who he is.

"There he is now," Lucy whispers, as if Kara might have any doubt. "In the middle. Mr. Olsen."

James Olsen is also not alone; he is flanked by two women, both of which are unfamiliar. Kara briefly takes in the first woman: she has a rather forgettable face to her, and a smirk on her face that is borderline amused.

The second woman stands out more, not because she is more handsome, though she is; her eyes are sharp, and her lips set into a grim line, but there is a determination in the way she holds herself.

"And who are his companions?" Kara finds herself asking, and Lucy is all too pleased to oblige.

"On his left is his sister, Margarita Sawyer. From what I hear, there is a simmering scandal within the family because she has refused to take on the Olsen name."

"And the poor soul to his right?"

"Lena Luthor," Lucy says, saying the name as one might whisper the devil's. "But make no mistake, she is no poor soul. She is worth ten thousand a year, or so I've heard, and is set to practically inherit half of Derbyshire."

"Have you met her before?" Kara asks, watching as the crowd parts for the group to move. Her eyes remain, curiously, on Lena Luthor; for a split second, she imagines that Lena catches her eye before turning away.

"Never. My father has never trusted the Luthors," Lucy says. "He will not tell me why. It's a shame, to be sure. Pemberly estate is said to be very beautiful, and yet he will never recieve any invitations to visit."

Just then, Mr. Olsen and his party reach the other side of the ballroom and are received by Lucy's father; the musicians strike up another song as if no time has passed, and the mixed crowds of people immediately begin to sort themselves out once more.

"Would you care to meet Mr. Olsen, Kara?" Lucy asks. "I'm sure he would be delighted to meet you."

Kara is helpless to do much but agree, and once Lucy locates Winn and Lois she brings them over as well; for a town brimming with excitement over the arrival of Mr. Olsen, no one else seems to be courageous enough to approach him.

"Mr. Olsen, you remember my daughters," Mr. Lane says. "And may I present to you Kara Danvers and Winn Schott, both neighbors of mine."

"It is a pleasure," James says, bowing to them both; he lingers especially with Winn, and easily sparks a conversation with him about the estate.

Kara finds herself drawn back to Lena Luthor. All mystery of James Olsen has vanished, as if he has been replaced subconsciously; while Lucy entertains Margarita, Kara is left standing side by side with Lena.

There is no mistaking what happens next: Lena meets her eyes, and Kara blinks at her in response, surprised at how the once-cold glare has melted into something gentler, more regarding. Since they are closer, it allows Kara a prolonged moment to note that Lena's eyes are green, a soft, light green, and that when she is not frowning she appears much more pleasant. Then in an instant Lena withdraws, twisting her lips together sourly, and Kara wonders if she has offended her somehow.

"Do you dance, Ms. Luthor?" Kara says, as a means to start up a conversation of their own.

"Not if I can help it," replies Lena coolly.

"Do you not enjoy dancing?"

"Not particularly." Lena does not elaborate, stiffly staring straight ahead as though Kara is nothing but a bother.

Kara knows when she is not wanted. She curtsies politely, but waits not to see if Lena returns the formal goodbye; the evening is young, and Kara intends to make the most of it.

She is invited to dance by a young man she sees in town, and is promptly distracted by the charm of such a lively dance; she has never been so free in her movements, so unburdened by outside force, and the music rings loudly and gayly throughout.

Lucy promptly takes her arm for the next dance, and insists on the one afterwards; it is only when Kara feels dizzy that she insists on a break, and Lucy brings her a glass of wine that they split amongst themselves as they rest beside the wall.

They converse on the most unimportant matters, with short breath and cheeks warm with exhaustion. Lucy begins a silly tale of one of Lois's misfortunes, at the poor girl's expense, and however exasperated Kara might feel in response never gets a chance to be heard.

From their point here, they remain half-hidden from sight, and as a result it is as if they are invisible; Kara catches quite a few snatches of conversation she will have to regale Winn with later.

And, as wonders never cease, who should appear by the window but James Olsen; he has had a wondrous presence to-night, dancing with many girls as gentlemen are scarce, and every moment spent not charming the women he has been with Winn. He, too, appears just as flustered as Kara and Lucy are, smiling as widely as ever even as his companion remains unimpressed; Lena has accompanied him out of the ballroom, expression less than pleased.

"What fun the country is," James says with a youthful sigh. "And what marvelous company!"

"It is quaint, to be sure," says Lena distastefully.

"I must have you dance, Lena, I hate to see you by yourself. Even Maggie has partaken in some fun; surely you might, too."

"I certainly shall not. I have no interest in dances." Lena crosses her arms, chin jutted out sharply. "And for you, I worry that you have danced too many."

"All in great fun," James responds; he is brimming with excitable energy, and it is evident in his smile. "And that Mr. Schott fellow...he is great company. Handsome as well, if you might be persuaded to dance with him."

"And how shall I dance with the gentleman _you_ find handsome? No, I will not."

"He is the most handsome man I have ever beheld," James says. "He has a dear friend, whom he swears is like a sister—shall I introduce you once more to Kara Danvers? She is a lovely woman, and as handsome a woman as I have ever seen!"

"Beauty holds no meaning to me, and as it were, I find her merely tolerable."

"Now, now, there is no need to sound so cross, Lena…."

As a few people filter in, James and Lena make their way back into the ballroom; it seems as though their talk was not meant for extra ears.

Kara is left stiff, stunned, and she does not understand why Lena's offhanded comment seemingly brings her shock; she, along with every person in the ballroom, has come to see Lena Luthor as an arrogant, withdrawn woman and her blase mannerisms should be no surprise.

And yet, there is a discontent low in her stomach, a touch of hurt; Lucy seems to notice.

"Count yourself lucky, Kara," she says, handing Kara the glass of wine with an apologetic sigh. "If she liked you, you'd have to talk to her."

Kara laughs, as reserved and uncertain as she has ever felt. "Perhaps we ought to go back," she says. "I have not made Alex dance with me, yet."

"Neither have I; shall we wager on who finds her first?"

They do find Alex, in deep conversation with Maggie Sawyer; Winn stands beside them, a nervous smile on his face, as they exchange heavy words.

"Alexandra, my love, I've found you!" Lucy declares, promptly delivering a kiss to Alex's cheek that startles her; it amuses Lucy to no end to torture her poor sister, and Kara delivers a swift swat to her shoulder for it.

"Leave her alone, Lucy," Kara orders. "Alex, we have been looking to find you—is everything alright?"

"Quite," Alex grits out between clenched teeth. "Ms. Sawyer was just leaving."

Maggie flashes an apologetic half-smile. "Forgive me," she says. "I fear I have overstepped."

"You certainly have," Alex says, quite visibly vexed, and Kara takes it upon herself to take over.

"Do forgive my sister, Ms. Sawyer," she says. "She is rather out of sorts to-night. She is much more agreeable once she has had a drink or two."

Maggie only nods her head. "No, please," she says. "Allow me to take blame. I have earned it." She has not once taken her eyes off of Alex, who refuses to spare her a glance now. "I shall take my leave."

"If you are in no hurry, we beseech you; stay! Tell us about Netherfield," says an exuberant Lucy. "Is it as beautiful as they say?"

Lucy has always been the sociable one; she draws even the most weary straggler with her voice, and keeps conversation so easily Kara is envious of her. Now, however, it is a relief to allow her meddling.

Kara's mind wanders, and she allows her eyes to roam as well; she has always been fond of Lucy's home. It is grander than theirs, in both size and decoration, colored with bright red and gold tapestries as far as the eye can see. As a child, Kara had thought it a castle; she imagines it seems so even now.

She is overcome with exhaustion, suddenly. That, and with a pressing need to loosen her corset, for Alex has set it dreadfully tight. Lucy might be persuaded into allowing Kara a moment alone in her room if she asks, and no one would _know_ , surely, unless someone has taken notice of her waist.

"Ms. Danvers?"

At the sound of her name, Kara is drawn to reality; Mr. Olsen and Ms. Luthor have joined their small group, the former looking to her expectantly.

"...yes?"

"We have been discussing suitors," Winn tells her helpfully. "Ms. Sawyer has inquired about yours."

"You are the only suitor I have ever had, Winn," Kara says with a tired chuckle; she fears she might come off rude, but the subject of suitors is not her favorite. "Though you courted me when you were but a boy."

"I wrote you some very pretty verses, did I not?"

"While aware of my indifference to poetry!"

"Tore my heart in two, this one," Winn says, beaming good-naturedly. "I ought to have taken it as a sign, to become a better poet."

"You witnessed the power of poetry, and how it drives away love," Kara says. "Is that not what you hoped for?"

Before he can reply, another voice rings clear: "I thought that poetry was the fruit of love."

Kara is taken aback at the sincere politeness in Ms. Luthor's tone, as if what she speaks is genuine. "Of a fine stout love, it may," she adds quite carefully. "But of the smallest inclination—well, I argue that a poor sonnet may kill it. New love is entirely too fickle, wouldn't you say?"

"If not written prose, what would you recommend, Ms. Danvers?" Ms. Luthor questions. "What other means could one encourage affection?"

Yet another genuine question. But Kara gives no genuine answer: "Dancing," she says, heart beating hard in her chest at the cautious pensiveness in Ms. Luthor's eyes, "even if one's partner is barely tolerable."

Kara retains the memory of the way Ms. Luthor remains impossibly unmoved, the only sign of her surprise the smallest crease between her eyebrows, as she makes her leave; it brings a hint of a smile to her lips, that. Alex will be irate with her later, once Lucy inevitably retells the tale, for a blatant rudeness to a lady with a high status. Kara cannot find it in herself to mind.

It is not as if she has to speak to Lena Luthor ever again, after all.


End file.
